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Mr. Peters and the Panties

By: Charles Petersunn



This story is classified within the section concerning reluctance and submission, including humiliation and spanking. If you don't like these types of stories you won't like this one and so you really, really shouldn't read it! Please do avoid this story if such topics are not to your liking or taste. All of the characters in this story are at least eighteen years old (one must be at least 18 to attend Templeton College). I hope you enjoy it!

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Mr. Peters' day began with the usual dull routine. It was sometimes so difficult to get up in the morning, knowing all that would face him throughout the day: so many students in need of guidance and discipline, so little time.

An educator's job never really ends. One class graduates as another one arrives. It did at times seem like an endless stream of young minds, and young bodies, needing his time, his consideration, his expert touch. But, as his mentor, Mr. Henry Desmond from Livingston College always reminded him, it was the life they, as educators, had chosen. They should not complain.

First on Mr. Peters' schedule today was Emily Brown. Emily had not been wearing regulation panties.

At Templeton, all of the girls had to wear white blouses with black ties, plaid skirts that had to reach below the knees, white socks, black shoes (Maryjanes were preferred), and, of course, white panties and brassieres. None of the girls were allowed to wear perfume, or excessive jewelry or substantial make-up. And certainly none of the young ladies could have tattoos! Just the thought of that was simply abhorrent to the Board of Trustees.

The administration felt that the uniform requirement was very helpful in instilling within the young ladies a sense of pride and discipline, as well as avoiding the presence of the licentious and distracting outfits that many college students were wearing these days. Goodness, at some colleges girls will show up wearing a chemise as if it was in fact a blouse! The parents of the Templeton girls appreciated not only the emphasis on proper, respectful dress and behavior, but also the considerable savings. It was remarkable how much money a young lady can spend on clothes.

The white panty regulation though was not well enforced. There were at times spot panty checks in the student center or at other well traveled locations. The Dean of Women would require a passing girl to briefly lift up her skirt (e.g., see "Just a little peek").

If a girl was caught without regulation panties she would be sent before the Student Disciplinary Board. The first offense was met with just a warning. Second offense was met with a grounding for a week (a punishment difficult to enforce for students who lived off campus). The third offense was met with having to write a paper on the importance of wearing regulation panties, and periodically visiting the Dean of Women to have the panties checked.

The President of Templeton, Dr. Chalmers, recognized that the college was probably not fulfilling its responsibility to provide sufficient enforcement of the white panty policy. All of the students at Templeton College were at least 18 years old but they still looked upon the faculty to provide guidance, discipline, and structure. If it became apparent that the college was lax when it came to some rules, others would be treated with comparable negligence and disrespect. It was a slippery slope that really should be avoided.

The college wanted to demonstrate that they were serious about the uniform regulation. President Chalmers informed Mr. Peters to give his own New School approach a trial run.

Mr. Peters would address Emily's panties in the morning, and his entire class in the afternoon.

As soon as Emily entered Mr. Peters' office she felt a heavy wave of anxiety sweep over her. Standing right next to Mr. Peters' desk was an old-fashioned pillory where one is held by one's wrists and neck between two large boards. Once trapped within a girl could not possibly escape and she would be subject to whatever Mr. Peters had in mind for her, which would be rather obvious by the pose in which she would be caught: her bottom sticking out behind her.

"Emily," Mr. Peters greeted the young lady as she timidly approached him, a look of apprehension evident in her eyes. "You know why you've been sent here."

"Yes, sir. I do," she demurely replied. She knew full well why she was there, and she wasn't happy about it. She was in fact rather embarrassed by it. "It's because of...well..." It was difficult for her to say, out loud, particularly to a male professor. She finally softly acknowledged, "My panties, Mr. Peters."

"Yes, precisely, Emily...Your panties." Mr. Peters didn't say anything further for a moment. He wanted that point to sink in.

The silence was awkward. Emily wondered if she was supposed to say something. But, what? What more is there to say? She clasped her hands behind her bottom, her eyes shifting to her feet. She nervously shuffled her left foot.

Mr. Peters finally continued. "I understand, Emily, that this was the fourth time you have been caught wearing non-regulation panties."

Emily's eyes nervously glanced around Mr. Peters' office as she admitted, "Yes sir, it is, or was."

"You've been grounded for a week. You've even written an essay on the importance of wearing regulation panties. Yet, you still don't seem to have learned your lesson."

Emily's eyes again fixed on her toes. "No sir, I guess not," she very quietly acknowledged.

"I'm not sure what can be done at this point to help you, young lady."

The three components of the New School method of pedagogical discipline are pain, embarrassment, and pleasure (see "Disciplining young ladies"), with the least emphasis on pain. Mr. Peters felt that in this instance he would emphasize in particular the component of embarrassment, perhaps excluding pain altogether.

Emily was pleased to hear that Mr. Peters was attempting to come up with a way to help her. She had assumed that she had been sent to him for some form of punishment. She again glanced at the pillory but just as quickly averted her eyes. She so hoped that it would be nothing like that!

"Do you have anything to say, Emily?"

She looked into the professor's eyes and said with as much sincerity as she could muster. "I am really ashamed, Mr. Peters. I'm embarrassed and ashamed." She didn't really feel that terribly ashamed, but she was most definitely embarrassed, at least by the fact that she was talking about her panties with a male professor.

"Are you really, Emily? Is that really true?"

"Oh yes sir, I am. Very much so sir, honestly."

"You know, I'm not so sure. I'm not so sure that you really understand the meaning of the word embarrassment, or shame."

"Oh, I do, sir, I really do. I feel very much ashamed right this moment, sir. Honest I do. I don't think I could feel any more ashamed than I do right now, sir."

That was a clear challenge, and opening. "Well, let's just see if that's really true."

"Excuse me, sir?"

Mr. Peters explained. "It's possible, Emily, that your current feelings of shame and embarrassment will be enough to motivate you to do better in the future. But, perhaps you need a bit more incentive. Don't you think?"

Emily had no idea what he meant. All she knew was that it didn't really sound so good. But, she wasn't in a position to disagree. "Yes sir, I guess so, sir."

"Excellent," Mr. Peters replied, taking her comment to be a clear and firm expression of agreement, which it perhaps wasn't. "Then let's get started."

Emily felt her pulse accelerate, her heart race. She glanced over at the pillory.

Mr. Peters noticed the direction of her eyes. He reassured her. "No, no, don't worry, Emily. I will not subject you to that."

Emily breathed a deep sigh of relief, her little titties momentarily rising within her white uniform blouse.

"No," Mr. Peters explained. "Your punishment will be more simple and straightforward."

"Yes sir," Emily quietly replied, feeling grateful for that.

"Now, if you would, raise up your skirt."

Emily looked at the professor with surprise. "Excuse me, sir?" She had heard of the unusual methods of Mr. Peters, but she had felt that much of it had just been rumors.

Mr. Peters looked Emily in the eye, his authority evident within his expression. "I think you heard me correctly, young lady. If I need to repeat myself then perhaps the pillory might in fact provide a more appropriate punishment?"

"Oh no sir, no, no. I don't think I need that."

"Well then," he replied, gesturing with his hand for the petite and pretty coed to raise her skirt. "Seriously, Emily," Mr. Peters added, "you must have realized that I would at least need to confirm that you are wearing regulation panties."

That was a good point, but she had never had a male professor inspect her panties before. She grimaced, her face turning red. She leaned forward a bit to take hold of the hem of her skirt. She couldn't believe she was actually doing this. She pulled up the skirt, past her knees, up her legs, all the way to the tops of her thighs.

Mr. Peters smiled at the sight of the young lady's soft, pale girlish thighs coming into view. He could see that Emily was no exhibitionist. Some girls were not the least bit reluctant to show a little thigh. Some were in fact quite proud and pleased with the opportunity. However, that was very clearly not the case with Emily, which boded well for the effectiveness of this New School lesson.

Emily avoided the professor's eyes, which she knew were staring at her exposed thighs. This just felt so wrong, so inappropriate, raising up her skirt like this in a male professor's office. It was like she was trying to tease him in some licentious way, which most certainly was not the case.

Mr. Peters nodded his approval, but it was time to extend the lesson. "A bit higher, Emily," he quietly instructed.

Emily held her breath and raised her skirt higher, realizing that she was now showing Mr. Peters her most personal, feminine place: the little white mound of her cunnie. It was still hidden beneath her panties, but she knew full well that it would be rather clearly outlined.

Mr. Peters smiled at the sight. There was nothing more delicious than the appearance of a soft white cunnie pouch peeking out from between girlish thighs. He felt he even detected a bit of a camel toe, but it was only barely discernible. "All the way up, Emily," Mr. Peters further instructed. "All the way past the top of your panties. I want to be able to see the waistband."

"Yes sir," Emily softly responded, feeling her face get even redder. She pulled her skirt all the way up, past the point of the waistband. Her entire panties were now completely exposed.

Mr. Peters admired the sight. Emily was wearing white cotton panties, consistent with college regulations. But, they were not entirely plain. There was a bit of lace along the trim, and a little violet bow at the very top center. This small bit of adornment though can be considered acceptable. It was a judgment call and Mr. Peters would let it slide. They were in fact really quite adorable, and of course it certainly helped that she had a petite girlish figure. Mr. Peters' penis naturally stirred within his own underwear.

"Now, Emily, really," the professor suggested, "Don't you think these panties are pretty enough? I mean, gracious, I think you look very cute in them."

Emily grimaced with embarrassment. It was always nice to hear a compliment, but not when it concerns one's underthings, at least not by an older male professor. Of course, Mr. Peters wasn't really that old. He was also rather good looking, but that made the exposure of her panties to him perhaps a bit more troubling, as if she was flirting with him in a rather openly naughty manner. But, she knew better than to simply ignore his compliment. That would be rude. "Thank you, sir," she quietly replied. She even gave him a little brief curtsy.

Emily felt a strong impulse to look down to see for herself how they looked. She did wonder. What girl wouldn't be curious? It was like she was showing off a new hairdo but avoided looking in a mirror to see for herself how it appeared. She was at least glad that she had worn one of her freshest, newest panties.

She decided not to look. It was difficult enough to let him look at them. Looking at them herself would make her exposure so much more real and vivid, seeing for herself what he was seeing.

Mr. Peters turned his attention back to a report on his desk, pretending to be working on it as the young lady continued to stand in front of him, skirt raised, panties exposed.

Emily wondered what she should do. Was she done? Was this all she would have to do? Was that her punishment, having to show him her panties? It had certainly been embarrassing but it was considerably less than what she had feared might happen. She asked hesitantly, "Should I lower my skirt now, sir?"

Mr. Peters returned his eyes to her. "No, no, if you would, just keep your skirt raised."

"Yes sir," she softly replied, finding this to be rather odd and disconcerting, just standing there in his office, like a decoration, and a rather embarrassing one at that, with her skirt raised, her panties exposed.

She was most definitely very pretty to view. She had a perky little nose, lots of freckles, large round green eyes, and naturally rosy cheeks. Her light brown hair was split in the center of her head and tightly wound into two long pigtails.

What if his secretary came in? Would she have to keep her skirt raised then? She glanced back at the door. She didn't lock it when she came in. Perhaps it locked automatically, but what office doors do that?

She returned her eyes to the professor, finding that easier to do now that he wasn't looking at her. It helped that he wasn't paying much attention to her. Of course, it wasn't terribly flattering to raise your skirt for a man and not have him be that interested. But, she would rather be ignored by him than ogled by him.

Mr. Peters looked up from his work, his eyes again resting on the sight of the girl's exposed panties.

She shifted her feet, turning a knee and thigh inward a bit, as if that would help hide her cunnie mound.

His eyes returned to his work, occasionally though glancing back at her.

Emily would look away whenever he looked up at her, her face typically flushing when eye contact was made. She felt like she was some sort of live pin-up girl for him.

Mr. Peters eventually said, "Are you beginning to appreciate what true shame is, Emily?"

She looked directly at Mr. Peters and nodded emphatically, her eyes wide with certainty.

"Yes, yes, indeed," Mr. Peters replied. "Why don't you turn around so that I can see what they look like from behind."

Emily did as he instructed, finding her change in position to also be a bit flustering, as if she was posing for him like some lingerie model, or perhaps even worse. But, at least she was no longer facing him. Showing him her bottom was not as difficult as showing him her cunnie.

Mr. Peters absentmindedly tapped his pen on the desk as he pondered the sight of the young lady's pantied bottom. He suggested, "Lean over a bit, Emily, so that they are pulled across your bottom more tightly, more snugly."

"Yes sir," Emily softly replied, leaning forward as she did so, her pigtails hanging down, wondering if she now looked rather lewd, thrusting her bottom back at the professor. Her pose certainly felt rather dirty.

"Yes, yes, that's much better," Mr. Peters observed. It was always a bit disappointing to have a skirt raised only to see loose fitting, disheveled panties. This, however, could be well corrected by having the girl stick her bottom out, so that the thin, soft cotton fit tighter to the round curves of the girl's derriere.

Mr. Peters really admired a young lady's perky little bottom. He couldn't explain why, but a petite, dainty derriere was so adorable, so fetching, and once Emily's came into view he could see that she did indeed have quite the charming posterior.

"Pull the panties up, Emily."

"What?" She didn't understand what he meant. Her panties were pulled up. She couldn't pull them up any higher.

Mr. Peters could see that the girl needed some instruction. "Bend over a bit more so that your skirt won't fall back down, and then pull your panties up real, real tight so that they wedge right in between the cheeks of your bottom."

Emily's eyes opened up wide with shock, her mouth gaping. He wanted her to do that? That was just simply indecent!

Emily was no prude. She didn't currently have a boyfriend but she had experience with guys. Still, she was no lewd slut who would pose in such a manner for a boyfriend. What decent girl would? And, Mr. Peters wanted her to do it for him? Right there in his office!?

She bent over farther, feeling her panties tighten further against her skin as she did so. She flipped her skirt up well onto her back so that it wouldn't fall back down. She looked back at Mr. Peters, sitting behind his desk, smiling. "Are you sure, sir?"

Mr. Peters nodded. "Oh yes, Emily, I'm quite sure. This is all for your own good, dear. Now reach back with both hands and pull up on the waistband so that they will fit nicely within your cheeks."

"Oh my goodness," Emily softly exclaimed as she turned her face away from Mr. Peters, her eyes fixed on the door to his office. What if someone came in right now, to see her bent over in front of Mr. Peters, her skirt tossed over her back, thrusting her bottom back at him. She reached back behind her and took hold of her panties to pull them up, wedging them into the crack of her butt.

Mr. Peters smiled. He liked it when girls pulled their panties up like that, converting modest panties into a thong, although for the girl it was a bit of an uncomfortable thong, as there was so much cotton now lodged in her crack.

Most importantly he could now admire the sight of the soft, curved, lily white cheeks of the young lady's derriere. He so much enjoyed how pure a young lady's bottom appeared. The sharp tan line accentuated the intimacy of its appearance, as it was evident that this part of her body was very private, never seeing the light of the sun, rarely seen by anyone, perhaps not even much by the girl herself. "Bend over a bit further, Emily. In fact, why don't you see if you can touch your toes."

"Yes sir," she softly replied, knowing that once she did so her cunnie mound would also come into full view. This was now a very, very obscene pose. It wasn't like she hadn't bent over like this for a guy before, but it had always had a very clear meaning and intention, one that she was not trying to suggest to Mr. Peters, yet the meaning, the implication, seemed very, very clear.

Mr. Peters' grin grew broader as the girl bent all the way over, her pigtails touching the floor, her cunnie pouch indeed coming into full view. With the panties pulled so tight he could discern more clearly a very nice camel toe, her panties hugging, squeezing so tightly the girl's feminine lips. "Yes, why don't you stay that way for awhile as I continue with these reports. Will that be alright with you, Emily?"

"Yes sir," Emily replied. It wasn't really, of course, but a good girl should accept her punishment.

"And wiggle that bottom a little bit for me, would you please, Emily? That would be helpful."

Emily's face turned beet red as she did so. She knew she must look so dirty and naughty as she wiggled her bottom back at the professor. She was now very much indeed learning about the meaning of embarrassment, of shame. Mr. Peters was a pretty darned good instructor. She would have to admit that.

Mr. Peters returned to his work, although looking up more frequently than before to have the girl give him another wiggle and wave, reaching down beneath the desk to give himself a squeeze as she did so. His dick felt so hard, so big, so yearning. But, he knew he could not, should not, give into the temptation. He had a job to do. His responsibility was this young lady's education, not the satisfaction of his lust, no matter how enticing, how tempting, she appeared to behave.


Mr. Peters and the Panties



After he felt that she had learned as much as she could in that position, he said, "Alright then, Emily, that's probably enough."

Emily took a deep sigh of relief and stood back up, her skirt falling back over her bottom. She turned around to face Mr. Peters as she reached back to extricate the panties from within the crack of her ass. It did really feel uncomfortable, but at least it was now all over.

"No, no," Mr. Peters corrected her. "Now I want you to let the skirt slip to the floor, around your ankles. Leave the panties where they are."

Apparently she was only done with just that particular pose. "Oh Mr. Peters," she whined. "Must I?"

"Yes, I'm afraid so, Emily. It's for your own good, for your growth and development as a young lady."

Emily couldn't quite see how that was true, but Mr. Peters was the professional, and a very successful one at that. Mr. Peters had a well regarded reputation for bringing out the best in his students, and Emily's parents did so much want her to succeed in college. Emily though had to wonder if they would be terribly happy if they knew of Mr. Peters' methods. She reached down and unclasped, and then unzipped, her skirt. She gave a final look at Mr. Peters, her eyes expressing her plea for this to end before it went any further, but Mr. Peters' expression revealed nothing. She let the skirt fall to the floor, and immediately clasped her hands in front of her panties.

"Leave your hands at your side, Emily, and don't interrupt me now as I have much to do."

Emily reluctantly pulled her hands away, looking down at the front of her panties to see what Mr. Peters would be able to see. She gasped with embarrassment as she witnessed the fact that the front of her blouse covered only a couple inches of her panties and, even worse, with the panties pulled up so tightly she could also see for herself that the lips of her cunnie were very clearly outlined. This was really terribly shameful and she quickly averted her eyes, glancing around the room, studying various objects, lamps, and books, trying to distract her mind from the fact that her feminine cunnie lips were so blatantly delineated.

Mr. Peters let the girl stand like that for sometime. It was important for her lesson to truly sink in and stick, particularly if it was not to be accompanied by the additional component of pain that was at least a part of most disciplinary sessions. The one component of embarrassment had to go a long way in helping this girl develop better self-discipline and dedication to her studies, her education, her growth.

He eventually looked up from his work to announce, "Alright then, let's have those panties pulled down, if you will. I would suggest to about halfway down your thighs. That will do nicely."

"Mr. Peters!" Emily protested. Now that was definitely going much too far. Wasn't it? She didn't really know for sure. It wasn't like she was herself an expert on modern pedagogy. "Must I, sir, really?"

"Well, Emily," Mr. Peters explained, "perhaps you will have a better appreciation of your panties if you're not allowed to wear them at all."

She closed her eyes as she looped her thumbs into the waistband, bent over, and pulled them down to the middle of her thighs.

"You'll have to spread your legs a bit, young lady," Mr. Peters advised, "in order to avoid having the panties slip all the way down."

"Yes sir," she replied, her hands trembling a bit as she positioned her panties and spread apart her legs, helping to keep them up, but also clearly making it easier for Mr. Peters to see her cunnie, which would now be completely exposed.

She stood back up straight, her skirt tangled around her ankles, her panties at her thighs, her young feminine cunt entirely and fully exposed.

And it was a very pretty cunnie indeed. Mr. Peters could not help but smile as it came into view. It was not at all hidden as Emily was a natural blonde with a very sparse bush, if one could even call it that. It was more like peach fuzz than a true growth. This was quite fortunate as what she had would not have been much to hide. There was just this little pale white mound separated by a gentle crevice. Emily had one of the cutest, daintiest, petite cunts Mr. Peters had ever seen, and he had seen quite a few. "Very, very pretty, Emily."

"Thank you, Mr. Peters," Emily quietly responded, her face a deep red. She looked back over her shoulder. What if another student just walked in, without even knocking? She would feel so ashamed.

"Do you have a boyfriend, Emily?"

"No sir, not right now, sir." She answered his questions but avoided eye contact.

"Really? Gracious, I'm sorry to hear that. That's a shame."

Emily didn't say anything.

"Has a boy seen you there before?"

"Mr. Peters!"

"It's a natural question, Emily. There's nothing to be ashamed about having a boy see your girlish little cunnie lips."

Emily shifted her feet, albeit being careful to keep her thighs spread so that her panties would not fall down. Mr. Peters was not only embarrassing her through physical exposure but through their conversation as well, a sort of psychological exposure. And, even worse, she could feel her feminine lips tingling, something they did when she was beginning to get aroused. It was perhaps a natural reaction for them, being so openly discussed, and clearly admired.

Mr. Peters pursued his inquiry. "Have you gone all the way, Emily?"

"Yes sir," Emily quietly responded, the blood rushing to her face. She wasn't ashamed about that, but it was embarrassing to tell a professor.

"Do your parents know this?"

"No sir," she admitted. She didn't really know how her parents would feel about it. Who hasn't had sex by the time their eighteen years old? Still, her parents were rather conservative.

"Embarrassment and shame can come in many different colors and forms, can't they, Emily."

"Yes sir," Emily agreed, feeling indeed so very ashamed, yet also now so very confused, and agitated.

"Why don't you turn around, Emily, and show me your bottom again."

Emily obeyed the professor, feeling relieved to avert her cunnie away from his admiring eyes, but knowing full well that there was likely worse to come. She carefully, timidly, turned around, finding the steps awkward with her panties still lodged around her thighs. Once her back was to him she didn't wait for further instruction. She bent over, placing her hands on her knees, her pigtails again hanging down, sticking her now naked bottom back at the professor.

Emily liked doggy style sex but she had to admit that she always felt a bit embarrassed by it, by the position. It just felt so animalistic to do it that way. Even the name was rather shameful, as if she was acting like a dog, wanting to be fucked like a dog. One guy even pulled on her pigtails, like he was riding a pony. Plus, she knew full well that in this position the guy could see her anus, and how would, how should, any normal good girl feel about that! She was just so thankful that no guy had ever mentioned that he could see her tush hole, or had ever said that he liked looking at it, and most definitely none had ever touched it.

Still, perhaps for all those reasons her cunnie would get so inflamed, so hot, when she was fucked from behind. She never could figure that out, that what was the most embarrassing was also the most exciting, the most arousing, but it so often appeared to be true. What ashamed her the most made her the most moist.

"Spread your cheeks for me, would you, Emily? I'd like to see what you have hidden deep down within that delightful little crack of yours."

"Oooooh Mr. Peters," Emily groaned in protest, feeling the moisture developing on her cunnie. She so hoped that Mr. Peters would not notice that. Now, that would be truly embarrassing! What could be more shameful than revealing to a professor that a punishment like this was actually sexually arousing? She reached back and dutifully parted her cheeks for Mr. Peters.

Mr. Peters again smiled. "What a very pretty rosebud, Emily, very pretty indeed."

No boy had ever said that before, thank goodness. "Thank you, sir," she dutifully replied, her face a deep red with shame.

"Back up closer, dear," he instructed, "so that it's positioned right over my desk. I do like a pretty rose on my desk."

Emily rolled her eyes but did as the professor instructed, slowly stepping backward so that her bottom was closer to his eyes and resting over his desk, her hands keeping her cheeks spread wide open so that he could have a real good look at her butt hole. She could feel her sphincter squeezing and squirming with self-consciousness, as if she was trying to flirt with him, flirting with her winking, twinkling anus.

"Very, very nice, Emily." It was really quite cute: all wrinkly red and so preciously small.

"Thank you, sir," she again softly replied.

"Has a boy ever kissed you there, Emily?"

"Professor Peters, my gracious, no!" How could he ask her such a thing?

"Well, don't be so shocked, young lady, with a rosebud as pretty as this one, I would think a boy would be unable to resist the temptation."

"Mr. Peters, please! Don't talk about it like that!"

"Oh, I don't think you're that embarrassed, young lady. Looks to me that you're also developing quite a bit of moisture, a few inches further below."

"Oh, Mr. Peters, please, this is so terribly embarrassing!" She squeezed her sphincter tightly, as if by doing so it would disappear from view. The lesson in shame was sinking in deep.

"Has a boy at least put his big hard cock in there?"

"Mr. Peters!" Could this get any more embarrassing?

"How often do you masturbate, Emily?"

"Oh Mr. Peters, please sir." Her bottom squirmed in mortification.

"Well, Emily, perhaps that is part of the problem. Perhaps you're masturbating too often. Have you discussed with your parents how often you diddle yourself?"

It would be difficult enough to answer such a question; it was doubly so bent over, holding open one's butt cheeks, as she acknowledged, "Goodness, gracious, no sir."

"Have you spoken to anyone at all about it?"

Emily looked back at the professor. It was painful to look him in the eyes when in such a shameful position, discussing such things, but she wanted him to see the distress in her eyes. "Well, no sir, no I haven't, but..."

Mr. Peters cut her off. "Well, a little paternal advice can be quite helpful, young lady."

It was evident that he was going to persist in his questioning. Perhaps the sooner she cooperated the sooner this would end. She was reminded of when she first went to the doctor for a "feminine problem." She had put it off for a few days, as she really, really, really didn't want to discuss it with a male doctor, let alone have him examine her pussy for it. But, she finally realized that it was the anticipation, the dread, that was the most painful. It was best to just get it over with. She turned her face away. "I've, um, well..." Her voice got quieter as she confessed, "masturbated, sir." She turned her face back to him, "But, not very often at all, sir. Really."

"Really? That's hard to believe, Emily. It must not be that enjoyable for you."

Emily looked away again, her face beet red. She didn't respond to that remark.

"Perhaps it would be best if you showed me precisely what you do, when you diddle yourself."

"Oh, Mr. Peters." Emily instinctively squirmed, though still holding the cheeks in her hands.

"Please, Emily. I don't have all day. I do have other students that need my attention."

"Ooooooooooh," she softly whimpered as she looked around for where in the office she might do it, not really believing that she really would though.

"No, no, Emily. Just stay right there, where you are, in that position. Try doing it that way...for me."

"Oooooooooooh," she again whimpered, but let go of her butt cheek with her right hand to shift these fingers to between her legs, where they made contact with her stiff nub. She pressed her fingers against the little hard stiffness and began to slowly circle the tips around and around against clit, her perky little bottom complementing the motion, circling and squirming in front of Mr. Peters' eyes.

The professor smiled. It was a very pretty, fetching sight. Girls must know how lovely and enticing they are, mustn't they? He suspected they did. Many times they did act like they did, giving him a little smile, perhaps even a wink, as they wiggled their bottoms as they walked away, but they could never walk in a man's shoes and truly appreciate what a vision they really are.

Emily's whimpering grew louder and more urgent, as now it was a whimper of lustful arousal rather than nervous embarrassment. She knew it was so awfully shameful to be doing this, but she was feeling so, so excited, and it was what Mr. Peters told her to do. It wasn't like she was doing this on purpose, like she just walked into his office and asked to do it. "Oh, Mr. Peters," she gasped, letting go of her bottom with her left hand, slipping one of those fingers up inside her cunt. She lightly flickered her clit with her right hand as she slid a finger of her left deep up inside her.

Mr. Peters reached down to his crotch and grasped his erection in his hand. He was sorely tempted to pull his stiff dick out and help the young lady reach her climax, but he knew it would not be the professional thing to do. He had to maintain his dispassionate objectivity as a professor. He was doing this for Emily's tutelage, not for his own base satisfaction, and being the disciplined instructor that he was he restrained himself, or at least confined himself to just softly fondling his stiff dick through his slacks.

Emily slipped a second finger up her cunt and began to hump them both as she now frenetically diddled her clit with her other fingers. The room was filled with the lewd noise of her slurping, slushing cunt. Her bottom wiggled and danced over the front of Mr. Peters' desk, much better than any stripper had ever performed. If Emily was in one of his classes, she would most definitely get a good grade.

Emily then bent her knees further, thrusting her ass back at the professor, the crack of her ass widening, and groaned, "Mr. Peters," suddenly feeling her cunnie quivering on her fingers as a shudder of deep pleasure swept through her body, her mind. She gave herself over to the shameful fruition, humiliation and fundamental pleasure becoming one and the same, shame and bliss together, and it felt so very, very good. 

"Oh Mr. Peters," she again gasped but this time with such joy and satisfaction, her butt crack remaining open as her body continued to tremble and twitch with her climax, her sphincter winking gaily at the professor.

Mr. Peters smiled back and squeezed his dick beneath the desk. Emily had clearly learned a very important lesson, not only about the importance of wearing regulation panties, but also about being herself.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

After his morning session with Emily, Mr. Peters felt truly inspired, as well as terribly aroused. Sexual arousal was, of course, a natural consequence of his work, his teaching, his research. It was important not to let it affect his better judgment. He had to keep his mind, his eyes, on the task at hand, and today it would be the enforcement of the new dress code.

Not surprisingly, Templeton College had been under considerable pressure to amend the college uniform requirement. No college, not even one as conservative as Templeton, wants to be perceived as sexually discriminatory.

The struggles to adhere to Title IX were difficult enough. For Templeton Title IX required either the elimination of football or the addition of a number of girls' sports in order to equalize the number of boys and girls who were supported by athletic scholarships. The Board of Trustees opted for the latter, despite the considerable expense this entailed. With respect to the school uniform, they decided to amend the rule for boys, requiring that young men also wear black belts and white briefs, just as the girls were required to wear white cotton panties.

The requirements for the boys had been admittedly less restrictive. Boys only had to wear white shirts, black slacks, and black shoes. The rationale for having looser restrictions for the young men was an annoyance to many of the young ladies of Templeton College, and even to a number of the female faculty. Miss Harding in particular had spoken out against this sexist discrimination, with the full support of Mr. Peters.

The revision of the rule was met with some complaints by the boys, although many of them had already been routinely wearing black belts. Black belts just looked nice with black pants and a white shirt.

A requirement to wear briefs was more annoying. Many of the boys felt that briefs were simply too childish. Briefs were for junior high school students; boxers were for men. On the other hand, quite a few of them were already wearing briefs, particularly those enrolled in the classes of Miss Harding, where something tight within loose slacks did at times come in handy.

Today, each student's devotion to the college regulation would be tested.

The students in Mr. Peters' class knew something must be up when they saw him arrive with Miss Harding.

"Good morning, students," Mr. Peters greeted as he entered the room.

"Good morning, Mr. Peters," they all politely responded.

"As you can see, Miss Harding is here with me today."

"Good morning, Miss Harding," many of the students spontaneously offered.

She smiled cheerfully in return, "Yes, hello, and a good morning to you." Miss Harding was perhaps the most attractive teacher within the small private college. She was 34 years old, with blue eyes, long lashes, and curly blond hair that draped softly across her shoulders. Her cheeks were always a rosy pink, with sensuous lips that often smiled sweetly at the young handsome men that were so often drawn to her classes, and to her.

The requirement that the girls not wear perfume or much make-up did not apply to the faculty and Miss Harding took full advantage. The students could always tell when she was passing by in the hall as her sweet scent would catch their nostrils like bait to a starving prey. They would turn their heads just in time to follow her departure, enjoying the sight of her womanly bottom sashaying down the hall in one of her tight business skirts.

Her most endearing feature though were perhaps her breasts. The boys did not know precisely how big they were. Only a few had ever had the striking opportunity to actually view them (see "The Lessons, #5, Miss Harding teaches the boys a lesson"). They would though often speculate, usually providing a gross exaggeration that only fueled their fantasies. In reality, she did have an excellent figure, her measurements being 36-25-35, which she typically exploited to full advantage with rather provocatively alluring outfits.

Miss Harding was wearing today a thin, white summer dress that clung so very well to that wondrous figure. The bodice appeared to do little more than drape across her breasts, their full outline so readily apparent, the nipples thrusting out, the cleavage provocatively large and deep. In the right light it appeared that one might even be able to see her lacy bra and perhaps her panties through the thin, clinging fabric.

And, to make matters worse (or better), the dress was incredibly short, revealing much of her long shapely legs, encased today in enticing white nylon. It was apparent that if she was required at some point during the class to bend over and pick something up, one would be treated to the very delightful sight of her panties, which many a young man was contemplating, imagining. As her heels clicked and clacked along the hard wood floor it was only natural that penises began to swell. Her own classes were typically filled to capacity with wide-eyed young men.




Mr. Peters and the Panties



"I brought Miss Harding here with me today because I have been invited by the Board of Trustees to help enforce the uniform policy."

Eyes widened with anxiety, and for those who were not in fact adhering to the regulation, with panic. This did not sound good.

"I'm sure you are all aware that the administration has become increasingly concerned with the extent to which students are not demonstrating sufficient respect for the policies and regulations of the college. It's really only in your best interest, as the young men and ladies of Templeton, to fully embrace all that the college has to offer. The lessons you learn here will pay off in big dividends later in life. I know that it is difficult for some of you to understand this now but believe me, when you venture out into the harsh and unforgiving world that exists beyond the safety and security of the hallowed walls of Templeton, you will look back upon these days with appreciation, and even fondness."

No, this did not sound good at all.

Mr. Peters pulled out a chair from the corner of the room so that Miss Harding could sit down at the front of the class, that so very short dress riding up high on her thighs as she did so. She pulled a bit at the hem, as if she was modestly trying to protect her thighs from view, but the effort was entirely futile. She did though demurely cross her legs, effectively shutting off from sight what was hidden between those silk white womanly thighs.

As Mr. Peters made his way to his own chair behind the desk he further explained, "The Board of Trustees has graciously entrusted me with the responsibility of demonstrating that at least the students in my classes will uniformly, genuinely, and thoroughly adhere to the principles and policies of Templeton, from the excellence that you will achieve in your studies down to the panties and briefs you wear. We leave no stone unturned at Templeton College," he added, as he pulled his chair away from his desk and took his seat.

"Now, I want each of the young ladies to come to me..." He hesitated for a bit of dramatic effect, "and raise her skirt so that I can inspect the propriety of her panties."

The girls hung their heads, blushed, sighed, rolled their eyes and/or gasped with anxiety and concern. Yes, this definitely was not good at all. Only a couple of them had ever suffered the ignominy of a panty inspection by the Dean of Women, and this would clearly be much worse, Mr. Peters being a man.

Mr. Peters raised his hand to silence them, but to reassure them he added, "Now, don't be so upset. You only need to raise the front of your skirt for my eyes only. I will not unnecessarily expose or embarrass any one of my young ladies. And, for the boys, they will of course come to Miss Harding for whom they will open the front of their pants so that she can view what we all hope and assume will be regulation white briefs."

"Now please, let's get started so that we can all get on with the lessons for today. Why don't we just work down each aisle, one at a time, starting with the boys on the left side of the room." He gestured to the aisle closest to Miss Harding, "and the girls on the right side of the room," gesturing to the girls to his right. "Of course, let's proceed one at a time so that the modesty of each young lady, and young man, is fully respected."

There was a natural moment of hesitation for the respective male and female students who would be first. They glanced over at each other, running through their minds whether they were indeed the first ones. Perhaps they had misunderstood the instructions. Perhaps it was someone else who was first.

"Sally, Jackson," Mr. Peters exclaimed, "do you require a personal invitation?"

They slowly, reluctantly, got up from their seats.

It was perhaps especially difficult for the first girl, or at least it felt that way to Sally as she made her way up to Mr. Peters. How very odd it was to have to walk up to her professor in front of the class in order to raise her skirt for the man to inspect her panties. She had never had to do anything like that in high school, although her high school was not, of course, as conservative and strict as Templeton College. Her parents had compelled her to enroll at Templeton precisely because of its strict discipline and devoted attention to the students' moral and character development.

Sally though felt like pointing out that her modesty would be more effectively protected if Miss Harding, a woman, was the one to do the panty inspection rather than a man. After all, it was the Dean of Women who conducted the impromptu panty inspections at the Student Center, but she knew better than to question Mr. Peters.

He would have in any case just pointed out that years of research with the New School method of student discipline had clearly demonstrated that it was considerably more effective to have male professors address the discipline of young ladies, and female professors oversee the young men (see "Disciplining young men," and "Disciplining young ladies").

Well, at least Sally had the comfort of knowing that she was indeed wearing regulation white panties. When she reached Mr. Peters she positioned herself with her back to the class, her bottom hidden partly by his desk. She looked with some trepidation at her professor. She just couldn't get herself to do it. It just seemed so wrong.

"Would you prefer that I raise your skirt, Sally?" Mr. Peters asked when she didn't do so herself.

"Oh, no, no sir," she softly replied and reached down, her face warming with the blood filling her cheeks as she took hold of the hem of her plaid skirt, raising it first past her knees, which seemed to her a bit trembly, then past her soft white thighs, which caused her cheeks to redden further, and then finally up to her white cotton panties. She turned in one knee, trying to hide the sight of the tender rise of her cunnie mound tightly encased within the snug white cotton.

Mr. Peters leaned in to get a closer look. They were really very lovely panties. The lace trim and little pink flower in the waistband did though push the limits of the regulation. The professor could claim that this was in violation, but Mr. Peters, as in the case with Emily, was a fair and reasonable man. "Yes, very nice, Sally. You have very lovely panties indeed."

"Thank-you, professor," she demurely replied and gave him a little curtsy of appreciation before she let go of the skirt. She then hurriedly scampered back to her seat before he could change his mind, her pony tail swinging behind her. The next girl got up from her seat to take Sally's place.

The first boy to approach Miss Harding, Jackson Camden, wasn't nearly as troubled as Sally. He not only had nothing to worry about with respect to his briefs, he wasn't at all ashamed over showing them to her. On the contrary, he felt pretty good about his equipment and the evident bulge they made within his tight fitting jockeys. He smiled down at the alluring professor as he undid his belt, snap, and zipper, gazing admirably at how her jeweled necklace fell down into that luscious valley of deep breast flesh, and then pulled open his slacks so that the professor could also admire his stuff.

The young man's confident arrogance was very evident to the professor and she did not appreciate his disrespect. "Well, very cute little undies, young man," Professor Harding exclaimed. "Did your mummy pick them out for you?"

"No, ma'am," Jackson quickly asserted, his broad grin rapidly dissipating.

"Well, just keep in mind that it's not the size that counts. Even a boy as small as you can please a girl if he works hard at it."

Jackson rolled his widening eyes. Was she serious? He quickly zipped himself up and returned to his seat, his penis effectively tucked between his legs, the sound of a few girls' giggling ringing within his ears.

Brenda Lee was the next girl to lift her skirt for Mr. Peters. Once she arrived she asked, "Must I really do this, sir? I promise my panties are okay, really sir. You know me. I would never break a rule or anything."

She was right about that. Brenda Lee was a very good girl. She had never caused Mr. Peters any difficulty within the class. But, he really couldn't make exceptions. And, besides, perhaps Brenda Lee was in fact hiding something. Sometimes a good girl can have rather interesting secrets. Most importantly, though, he did really want to see what the cute, innocent, and modest Brenda Lee was wearing beneath her skirt. He had always been so very curious. "I know that, Brenda Lee," he replied considerately, "but it wouldn't be fair to the other girls if I skipped you now, would it."

"No sir, I s'pose not," she timidly acknowledged. "Ooooooh," she groaned as she so apprehensively lifted up the center of her skirt so that he could see just the very bottom part of her panties.

It wasn't revealing much but it was arguably the very best part of a girl's panties, and it turned out that Brenda Lee was indeed hiding something, a very lovely and adorable camel toe. Mr. Peters had to smile at that. There is perhaps nothing more adorable on a girl than a fetching little camel toe, and it made it all the sweeter for it to be Brenda Lee's. "Yes, very nice panties, Brenda Lee."

"Thank you, sir," she modestly replied, her face reddening.

"But, they are perhaps a bit tight, are they not?"

"Excuse me, sir?" She asked as she looked down, raising the skirt a bit higher so that she could see for herself. "Oh my gosh!" she exclaimed when she discovered what her professor had noticed. She quickly lowered the skirt. "I'm so sorry, Mr. Peters!"

Mr. Peters though just smiled and reassured the young lady "Now, now, that's perfectly alright, Brenda Lee. That's well within the regulations and," he added, reaching around to give her little bottom some affectionate pats, "I think it's quite adorable." 

Brenda Lee appreciated Mr. Peters' reassurance but did find it even more embarrassing that her professor had been admiring the appearance of her girlish lips through her panties. It wasn't like when he was complimenting her class performance. "Can I go back to my seat now, sir?"

"Oh yes, yes, certainly." He would have enjoyed another peek but he again reminded himself that it was important not to take advantage of the situation for his own prurient interests. He called out to the next student, "Mandy, would you please come up next?"

"Yes sir," Mandy timidly replied from her desk, and slowly extricated herself to make her away to his desk.

Jimmy Jones was the next young man to open his pants for Miss Harding. He was a very small, skinny young man, with glasses and even a few pimples. Miss Harding could see that he was very, very nervous about opening his pants up for her. She wondered if this would be the first violation. She smiled as she thought of the timid young man being punished for wearing boxers.

But, she was disappointed to discover that he was well within the regulations, wearing tight tidy-whities. She smiled though as she observed how so very small he must be beneath his jockeys. They were rather tight and he barely provided the sign of a bulge. Such a contrast with the previous young man. Well, she could at least brighten his day. "Oh my gracious," she exclaimed, her mouth and eyes opening wide with apparent wonder. She said loud enough for other students to hear, "You must scare quite a few girls with that one."

"What?" Jimmy wondered if she was making fun of him. He knew he was small.

Miss Harding looked up at him flirtatiously and reached out to gently slide the tip of her finger along what must be his penis. "I have a mind to make you take it out. I don't think I've seen one so big in quite some time."

Jimmy lurched a bit at her touch. It wasn't too often a girl touched him there. Actually, no girl had in fact done so. His heart raced as his face reddened.

"But," she added, "I think we might just scare a couple of the girls. I suspect you better just zip that thing up and return to your seat."

"Yes, ma'am," Jimmy replied, zipping up, buttoning, and clasping his belt as he turned around to head back to his seat, a big grin glowing on his face.

A few of the girls looked at him rather curiously as he made his way to his desk. Jackson scowled.

Mandy had by now reached Mr. Peters and with considerable trepidation slowly raised her skirt.

Mr. Peters had considerable difficulty not smiling as the skirt gradually made its way up Mandy's thighs. She was such a pretty little thing, with wavy blonde hair, large round blue eyes, and a very cute perky nose. But, the budding grin turned quickly into a frown of disapproval when the young lady's panties came into view. It wasn't that her panties weren't appealing. They were in fact very, very sweet: violet cotton with candy canes, balloons, and cupcakes. But, clearly not regulation. He shook his head as he asserted, "Mandy, I must say, I am very disappointed."

"Yes sir, I'm sorry, sir. I just didn't have a clean pair of white ones today. What could I do?"

"Well, you could have done your laundry."

Mandy grimaced. He was right. "Yes sir, I know. I am though very, very sorry, sir."

"Well, we will need to make an example of you, Mandy. I'm sure you understand."

"Yes sir," she meekly replied, wondering fearfully what being an example would mean.

"Well, first, why don't you pull those panties down. We can't have you wearing them throughout the rest of the class, can we?"

"No sir, I guess not, sir," her face reddening further at even the thought of taking them off in class. Was he going to confiscate them? That wouldn't be too bad, but it would be embarrassing to know that he had them. Plus, everyone in class would know that she wasn't wearing panties! And, what would Mr. Peters do with them?! Would he take them home? Was he going to show the rest of the class her panties? That would be real embarrassing, to say the least. She reached under her skirt, took hold of the waistband, bent over a bit, and pulled them down, her bottom jutting out to the class behind her. Fortunately, though, her derriere was still covered by her skirt.

As she began to step out of her panties Mr. Peters slipped his hand beneath her skit to rest it on her soft little curved bottom.

Mandy stopped. Apparently she was doing something wrong?

Mr. Peters explained. "No, no, Mandy, just leave them right there. I think the class needs to see what constitutes a violation of Templeton regulations."

Mandy's face reddened further, if that was possible. "I need to keep them there?"

"Yes, yes. You can pull them back up when class is over. Now, lift up your skirt on both sides so that everyone can see your bottom."

"Mr. Peters! Really?"

"Oh yes, yes. You apparently need a very clear and concrete reminder of why it is important to wear regulation panties. Apparently simply knowing of this honored school policy was not sufficient for you to obey the rules. I think having your skirt raised is a very appropriate and meaningful way for you to learn your lesson. Wouldn't you agree?"

"I guess so," she softly replied and, with her eyes squeezed shut, she raised up her skirt.

Boys strained and twisted trying to get a good look at the girl's naked little tush, but it was still partly hidden behind the desk and the books.

"The front as well, Mandy," the professor instructed, doing his best to keep his expression stern and commanding.

She opened her eyes and looked at the professor, her expression pleading for some consideration. "Oh must I really, Mr. Peters?"

"The lessons of life are not always easy, Mandy. Someday you will be very grateful that you received this discipline. Now, please, don't dawdle as I have quite a few more panties to inspect."

"Yes sir," Mandy quietly replied and lifted up the front of her skirt as well, revealing to the professor's eyes her completely shaved pussy. She liked to have her pussy shaved. She just felt that it made it look so cute and pure that way, not that she was actually showing it to anyone. She did have a boyfriend but they were being very responsible and mature when it came to sex. They weren't doing anything other than just kissing and snuggling. Well, maybe a little bit of touching and caressing, but always with the clothes on.

The professor did now finally smile. How could a healthy adult male not smile at that? A shaved cunnie did look so terribly adorable and Mandy's cunnie was so enticingly sweet. There was frankly not much to it: just a little white mound split by a delicate thin crevice. But, great beauty need not be complex. Sometimes simplicity can be truly elegant, if not dazzling. It took all of Professor Peters' professorial strength not to reach out and explore the girl's precious little treasure.

"Now, you must make your way back to your desk, Mandy. You can lower your skirt when you take your seat, but be sure that your bare bottom is on the seat. I want you to be reminded throughout the rest of the class the importance of wearing your white regulation panties."

"Alright, sir," Mandy glumly replied, and turned to make her way back to her chair. It was a very difficult walk of shame, and not simply because it was so terribly embarrassing to have to do so with her skirt raised, exposing to the eyes of every boy in class her bare, naked, shaved cunnie. It was also physically awkward, with her colorful panties tangled around her ankles. She could only take little baby steps. Nevertheless, she struggled to scamper as fast as she possibly could, as the sooner she reached her seat the sooner she could lower her skirt.

The reaction of the other girls in the class was mixed. Some were giggling at the sight of Mandy struggling back to her seat, her steps so short and clumsy. She looked like a little girl whose panties had fallen down but didn't seem to have the sense to pull them back up. It was kind of funny to watch.

Others though felt vicariously anxious and embarrassed. They were all now learning the very clear and evident importance of following the college's regulations. A lesson from Mr. Peters was a lesson well-learned. A few of the girls in particular had good reason to be concerned, as they would soon have to show Mr. Peters their panties as well.

Andrew Buttons had been in the process of undoing his pants when Mandy made her way back to her seat and his heart raced at the sight, for more reasons than one. Of course, it was pretty darned enjoyable for a guy to see her scampering like a geisha girl, her pretty little naked tush sashaying as she made her way down the aisle, but he knew he was also quite liable for the same walk of shame, as he was wearing black boxers. He really detested the college regulation and, up until this moment, he had little expectation of ever getting caught. Besides, if he was somehow caught the punishment hadn't been anything terribly bothersome. But, this was now different; very, very different.

Miss Harding noticed his distraction and so she finished the job for him, opening up the front of his trousers to discover for herself the violation. "Well, well, well, Mr. Peters. We have another disobedient student."

Mr. Peters was not surprised. Andrew was not one of the better students in the class and he often seemed to feel that rules and regulations were made to be bent, if not broken. "Yes, well, I suspect our young Mr. Andrew Buttons will need to join his miscreant colleague."

"You heard your professor, Andrew. Let's get those trousers and undies down."

Andrew's heart sank. This was so, so humiliating. He slipped his thumbs into the waistbands of his trousers and boxers and pulled them down before the smiling Miss Harding. He felt like a little shamed boy, about to be spanked. Well, at least that wasn't going to happen.

"Lift up your shirt, young man. If you're not going to wear regulation briefs than you might as well show everyone what they would be hiding."




Mr. Peters and the Panties



Andrew closed his eyes as he raised his shirt for Miss Harding.

Her smiled broadened as his testicles and limp penis came into view. She always found the sight of a boy's penis to be so pleasing, so amusingly titillating. She especially liked them when they were all stiff and hard, but limp ones also had their own charm. They were just so boyishly adorable. And, it was evident that Andrew was pretty nervous and embarrassed about having to expose himself this way, as his penis was all curled up in its foreskin blanket. It probably wasn't as small as Jimmy's but at the moment it was not conveying much of an impression of being particularly virile or masculine. She took him by the waist, turned him around, and gave him a few pats on his naked teenage butt to send him on his way.

Andrew tried to avoid any and all eye contact as he made his way back to his seat. Pretty much all of the girls were giggling at him, including even Mandy who was now resting her own naked tush on the cold wood seat, at least comforted by the fact that her cunnnie was now safely hidden.

Boys were chuckling as well, although not one in particular. His heart was racing as he waited for his turn to stand before Miss Harding.

For awhile longer there were no further violations. There were perhaps some borderline cases, a bit too much lace on the trim of some panties, but Mr. Peters let those slide as well. He was a considerate and forgiving man and would not impose an unreasonably low threshold for what would constitute a forbidden panty. Girls should be allowed at least some space to express their unique feminine charm.

One girl, Nancy, was a bit wet in the gusset. That was rather suspicious. He checked further by slipping a couple of fingers beneath her panties to see if his visual impression was indeed correct.

She gasped as she felt her professor's fingers make direct contact with her cunnie lips. She was indeed very moist, finding this whole experience rather exciting. She considered Mr. Peters to be a handsome and attractive man, and she had always been drawn to older men. The thought of raising her skirt to have him inspect her panties just made her so darned moist. It was, of course, equally embarrassing for him to notice the moisture, but perhaps for the same reason rather exhilarating as well. She had imagined quite a few times Mr. Peters seeing her panties and exploring within them, and now that moment had arrived.

Upon confirming that the girl's panties were indeed wet Mr. Peters explored further, wanting to get a good measure of the extent of the problem. He found the girl's clitoris which did feel to be rather erect. He pressed the tip of a couple of fingers hard against it as he rubbed it around and around.

"Oh professor," Nancy gasped, pressing forward against his finger, encouraging him to continue. She had never imagined the professor diddling her right in front of the class, but if that is what he wanted to do, she would not object.

But, Mr. Peters knew to do so would be wrong. There were always so many temptations during the administration of a New School method of student discipline and it took a very special, well disciplined professor to implement them without sliding down a very slippery slope, and this one was indeed quite literally slippery. He stopped. "Yes, well, we might want to talk about this further, Nancy. You should perhaps schedule an appointment with my secretary." He could see that this girl could benefit from some personal, individual attention, perhaps some variation on the exercise completed by Emily this morning.

"Yes sir," Nancy sighed, and with some reluctance lowered her skirt and made her way back to her seat, a little grin peeking out from the edges of her lips, wondering what Mr. Peters might have in mind. Perhaps she would even show up wearing a naughty pair of panties. She could just toss up her skirt in confession, and then throw herself on the mercy of the court.

As Nancy made her way back to her seat Professor Peters noticed some whispering going on between Judy and Betsy. Betsy's panties had already passed inspection and Judy was apparently trying to convince her to slip her panties off so that she could put them on while Mr. Peters was distracted by Nancy.

"Judy, why don't you come up now so that you can show me your panties?"

"What? Oh! Oh, um, well, it's, um, not my turn yet. I think Tricia is next."

"That's alright. I must admit to being a bit curious about your panties in particular."

"Mine?" That was a rather provocative remark for a professor to make.

"Somehow I feel you will have rather interesting panties. Please, why don't you come on up and let me have a look."

There was nothing she could do. She was caught. She would have to proceed to Mr. Peters and accept her punishment which, from what happened to Mandy, seemed rather clear. She reluctantly extricated herself from her desk and made her way up to Mr. Peters.

When she reached him she tried to explain. "I'm not actually wearing my own panties, Mr. Peters. They're my sisters."

"They're your sisters?"

"Yes sir. We're both pretty petite and I often borrow some of her clothes. She's a few years older than me and so has lots of really nice things."

Mr. Peters was somewhat surprised to hear that Judy's sister was the same size, as Judy was as petite as Mandy. Judy had lovely brown eyes, with soft curly brown hair, a delicate nose, rosy red cheeks, and the cutest little kissable lips.

"Does she know you're wearing her panties?"

"What?" Judy hesitated to answer. "Yeah! Sure, of course she does. I certainly wouldn't borrow something from her without permission."

"Well, let's take a look at them, shall we?"

Judy grimaced with embarrassment but still raised her skirt, bringing into view her sheer light blue lace bikini panties.

These were very far from Templeton regulation panties. Mr. Peters could even clearly see the young lady's cunnie lips through the diaphanous fabric. His cock swelled within his own briefs. "Oh no, no, no. These will not do at all, young lady."

"But, like I said, Mr. Peters, they're not even mine!"

Mr. Peters chuckled at the feeble excuse. "Honey, she didn't make you wear them. It was your decision. It doesn't really matter that you didn't pay for them."

Judy pouted at Mr. Peters, feeling that she did have a very good excuse, if he would just think about it. "I don't think that's fair, Mr. Peters."

Mr. Peters smiled. Judy even looked cuter when she pouted, but his impression might be biased by the raised skirt and sheer lace panties. "Well, be that as it may, why don't you pull them down to your ankles and return to your seat, as I had instructed Mandy."

She whispered to the professor, "Oh, Mr. Peters, really? Must I do that. Must I let everyone see my, my, my...well..." Her voice became even quieter, "you know."

"Sweetie, if a breeze came along and lifted your skirt, you would be showing everyone anyway." To make his point he poked at her cunnie through the lace. "I can see right through these. Now, pull them down and return to your seat."

"Oh Mr. Peters," Judy continued to complain as she pulled her panties down and then raised her skirt, providing him with an even better look at her cunnie.

Judy's cunt wasn't as demure as Mandy's. Her lips were thicker and more prominent. She did though clearly trim her pussy hair, providing a nice neat, attractive coif to adorn her most special feminine place.

"Yes, that's fine dear. Be sure to keep your skirt raised as you return to your seat." He reached around to give her a few encouraging pats on the bottom. "Off you go now."

"Yes sir," Judy glumly replied and turned to make her way to her desk, much to the boys' evident delight as her pussy came into open view.

The struggle to walk with her panties at her ankles was not only cute but it provided more time to enjoy the lovely sight of the young lady's full feminine lips. It was like she actually wanted them to enjoy the show, although the fact that she was so terribly embarrassed at having to do so added to their amusement.

There was not a boy in the room who wasn't developing an erection, and many of them finding it be quite a struggle. They had not yet shown their underwear to Miss Harding and were now actually avoiding the scintillating sight of Judy, at best just stealing very brief glances and then quickly looking away when they felt themselves responding. . Alan Bittermen, the next boy in line to present his underwear to Miss Harding, was having serious difficulty. In fact, his effort to avoid an erection had been an abject failure. He had swelled to full strength upon just the arrival of Miss Harding. She was just so darned hot! The thought of showing her his underwear, and her gazing upon his stiffness, had made him even harder. Perhaps she would indeed be impressed, much like she had been with Jimmy Jones. But, as he thought about it further he realized that she was much more likely to be appalled, if not offended. What kind of boy gets an erection simply at the thought of showing his underwear to a teacher? And, what teacher is flattered by its sight? He had tried to distract his attention, but witnessing the delightful walks of shame by Mandy and Judy had pretty well undermined all that effort. He perhaps could have looked away, but not enjoying the sight of pretty girls walking with their skirts up and panties at their ankles was really asking too much of a young man. How often will something like that occur? Miss Harding would have to understand that, wouldn't she?

Alan took his time though undoing his belt, trying to think of something other than the lovely thighs, thrusting breasts, plunging cleavage, pointy nipples, and delicious scent of Miss Harding. It was a lost cause.

Miss Harding quickly grew impatient, brushed his hands aside, and deftly undid his belt, unbuttoned his slacks, pulled down his zipper, and opened up his pants. She sighed deeply with disappointment, her breasts rising up within her cleavage, like balloons trying to burst forth. She looked sternly up at Alan as she spoke to her colleague. "Mr. Peters, apparently your student has became rather excited over the thought of showing his underwear to a teacher."

Alan's face turned deeply red. It was bad enough to have to show it to Miss Harding but did she have to announce it to the class?

"Just a second," Mr. Peters said to Ashley, who at the moment was holding up her skirt for him.

"Yes sir," Ashley replied, wondering for a moment if perhaps she could lower her skirt as he spoke to Miss Harding, but figured that she probably shouldn't, particularly as he had taken hold of her bottom cheek with his right hand to keep her still while he spoke to Miss Harding.

Mr. Peters responded to his colleague. "Is Alan at least wearing regulation briefs?"

Miss Harding had to give him some credit for that. She nodded as she acknowledged, "Well, yes, yes," running her fingernail down the length of his stiff bulge.

Alan softly sighed and further swelled. He wasn't expecting her to actually touch it. He felt so excited and so fearful.

"They are certainly fine in that regard but," she reminded Mr. Peters, "there is of course the 'boner rule.'"

Yes, that was indeed true.

Alan's eyes opened wide with concern. He whispered to Miss Harding, "The boner rule?"

"The boner rule," Miss Harding explained, loud enough for everyone to hear, "is that if a boy gets an erection in class he must stand before the class to show it to everyone, and get a spanking as well."

Alan could feel his heart sinking. Is she serious? "The whole class?!"

"Well, I don't think showing it to just part of the class would make any sense, Alan. Wouldn't you agree?"

His point was more along the lines of having to show it to anyone, especially the girls. He turned to his professor. "Mr. Peters, must I really do that?"

Mr. Peters was softly caressing Ashley's perky little bottom, enjoying the fact that the interruption of his panty inspection was actually affording him more time to enjoy this particular pair. Ashley's panties were only marginally within regulation, if they were in fact acceptable. The panties were white but there was a pink lace trim. He wasn't too sure if he should let these slide. As he contemplated this difficult decision he tore his eyes away to affirm Miss Harding's statement. "Oh yes, yes, Alan. I'm afraid so. Miss Harding, if you would do the honor."

"Certainly, Mr. Peters." Miss Harding took hold of Alan's waist and turned him around so that he was facing the class.

Gasps, giggles, and tittering swept across the class.

Even Ashley let out a little giggle, although that could be because Mr. Peters was now lightly caressing her inner thigh. She was a bit ticklish there.

"He looks a little funny, doesn't he, Ashley," Mr. Peters said quietly to her.

She looked down at him and smiled. "Yes, he does."

"Watch closely," he suggested as his finger went to the soft little bulge of her honey pot mound.

Ashley's breathing accelerated as she saw Miss Harding take hold of the waistband of Alan's pants and pull them down to his ankles.

Alan closed his eyes in shame. At least by not seeing the eyes and smiles of the students he was less of a witness to his own embarrassment.

He very clearly had quite a bulge. One could even see the outline of his round thick knob pressing against the thin white cotton, trying desperately to escape the tight briefs.

Miss Harding helped him out, or at least helped it out. She took hold of the waistband of Alan's briefs and wrenched them down to his ankles as well, his stiff dick popping out like a jack-in-the-box.

"Oh my gosh!" Alan exclaimed in horror, his hands immediately going to his crotch to hide his embarrassment. He wasn't thinking that he would have to show it outside of his underpants. 

"No, no, no," Miss Harding corrected him, pulling his hands away so that his erection was in clear view. "Pull up your shirt, young man, so that everyone can have a good look."

Alan didn't think he had ever been more humiliated than this. His mother had once walked in on him when he was masturbating, standing up in front of his computer. He had apparently forgotten to lock the door, a mistake he never, ever, made again. It had been so, so embarrassing.

His mother had been perhaps almost as embarrassed as him and had quickly extricated herself from the room, admonishing him to lock the door in the future. She did though giggle as she made her way back down the stairs.

Alan flushed red every time he saw his mother over the next few days. She didn't make any reference to it but he knew she must be thinking about it. He felt like such a pervert, especially as he was looking at the time at a big boob website. He sure hoped she hadn't noticed that. His mother was herself very well endowed in that regard and she might be thinking that he would at times think of her, naked.

Well, this was clearly much worse; much, much, much worse. His mother's viewing of him had lasted only a second or so. This was a full, sustained display, and to girls his own age.

And his exhibition was yielding quite a bunch of reactions. Some of the girls looked away, in embarrassment and perhaps even anxiety, but even they continued to sneak some peeks. Other girls just smiled broadly, enjoying immensely the sight of a boy being embarrassed by having to display his stiffie to them. Still others were also embarrassed but couldn't take their eyes off of it; their faces blushing red, their hearts racing, and a bit of warmth developing within their thighs.

Alan didn't have an especially large erection, but neither was it especially small. It was just a very healthy, stout, stiff one, with the knob all red and shiny with excited lust. Alan was always quite proud of his erection. He thought it looked pretty darned good. He was not so proud of it now.

Ashley's eyes were focused on it as well. "Oh my goodness," she quietly exclaimed to nobody in particular, but perhaps to her professor, who was continuing to softly caress the front of her panties.

Mr. Peters reached around with his left hand to give Ashley a reassuring squeeze of her bottom, but then also cautioned her. "You know, Ashley, your panties could be in violation."

She turned back to look down at her professor. "Really sir? Because of the pink lace?"

"I'm afraid so, young lady." He slipped his fingers under the trim of the leg hole to further inspect the lace but also to provide him more direct access to what was hidden beneath. The backs of his fingers softly drifted across the girl's cunnie mound and lips, which were now getting rather moist. "But, I believe we can make an exception, this one time."

"Oh, um, thank-you, Mr. Peters," she replied, stealing another glance at Alan's stiff, hard dick, not quite hearing precisely what he was saying as she was distracted not only by Alan's hard cock but as well by the soft, glancing touch of Mr. Peters' fingers against the bare skin of her cunnie. There was something about feeling a man's fingers softly caressing your cunnie while your eyes gazed upon a stiffly inflamed cock. She could feel her breathing further accelerating.

Mr. Peters withdrew his fingers from her cunnie as well as from her bottom, using them to tug and tuck on her panties to make sure that they again fit snugly, smiling as her camel toe came into view as he pulled gently up on the waistband. "Very good, Ashley. But, well, I think it would be best if you stopped by tomorrow, at my office, to have me check them again. It's not that I don't trust you, but the Dean of Women will want to know that I am keeping a close eye on this."

He was thinking that perhaps he should schedule a few hours a week for various follow-up panty inspections. He would have to talk to his secretary about this. She was more familiar with the openings within his schedule. He might not have much free time, as his services were in such high demand. But, this was clearly important and he vowed to clear some time from his busy schedule.

Ashley let her dress fall back down, feeling now a bit confused and distracted. "Oh yes, absolutely, sir. Um, well, what time should I stop by?"

"Why don't you give my secretary a call. Let her know that you will be stopping by for a panty inspection and she'll give you the best time."

Mr. Peters knew that the girl could just keep a pair of white cotton panties in her purse to put on just prior to the inspection, but he had sufficient faith in his students that they would not be so duplicitous.

"Yes sir, I'll do that and, again, um, thank you sir for your understanding." She knew that the pink trim could be a violation and that Mr. Peters had been rather lenient. She felt like giving him a little hug of appreciation for his consideration, but that might be a bit inappropriate during a panty inspection, or at least perceived the wrong way, by him and the rest of the students in the class. She therefore just stepped aside and made her way back to her desk, the sight of Alan's erect dick in the corner of her eye.

SMACK!

"Yipes!" Alan squealed, his hands instinctively dropping the front of his shirt to reach back and protect his bottom, his dick though now thrusting out toward the class, bobbing and weaving with the sudden movement of his pelvis.

"No, no, no," Miss Harding admonished him. "You need to keep your hands off your bottom, Alan."

"Yes, ma'am," he replied. It wasn't in fact a terribly hard smack. It was just so surprising and disconcerting. 

"In fact, I believe it would be most appropriate and in fact useful if you kept your right hand busy stroking your penis. That way you won't be tempted to reach back again and you will be able to maintain your erection for the class."

Alan looked back over at Miss Harding sitting behind him, a bit to his left, and said, with considerable astonishment, "What?"




Mr. Peters and the Panties



"Is it the right hand you normally use?"

Alan could again feel a rush of hot blood flowing into his face. His eyes widened, trying to convey to Miss Harding that he found this very, very embarrassing, even shocking.

But, it was not the least bit surprising to Miss Harding and was in fact all in the spirit of the New School method of student discipline (see "Disciplining young gentlemen"). She just smiled up at him and waited for an answer.

"Well, yes, I guess," he responded quietly, but not so quietly that he wasn't heard by at least a few of the girls who giggled and tittered at his admission.

"You don't really know? That's a little surprising. Or, perhaps you use both hands?"

"No, no, yes, my right. I'm right handed," he asserted more clearly, wanting this conversation to end as soon as possible.

"Well, alright then, why don't you get right at it." She leaned forward and peeked around his body. "It looks like it's already falling down on the job. And, if you would, stick your bottom back a bit to give me a better target."

Alan again closed his eyes as he stuck his bottom back farther. He gripped his stiff dick in his hand and began to stroke it.

Some of the giggling was now turning to quiet laughter, along with quite a bit of whispering.

SMACK! SMACK! SMACK!

This was just so, so embarrassing, and so terribly, terribly weird. He was at least glad that his girlfriend was not in this class. She had said she wanted to take it with him, but wasn't sure she could do all that math. Well, at least things could in fact have been worse than they are now.

SMACK! SMACK! SMACK!

But, it was still pretty darned bad the way it was. It was also strange though. He would have to admit that a part of him would in fact be enjoying this if it was in the privacy of Miss Harding's office. Being spanked on one's bare butt by the pretty and voluptuous Miss Harding as you got to stroke your cock did have an appeal, albeit one that he would not admit to anyone. Not even his girlfriend. He stroked himself harder and quicker.

Although maybe it might be kind of fun if his girlfriend was in fact interested in such play. In fact, perhaps it would have been good if she was here, watching him, perhaps finding it funny, perhaps even fun, perhaps even a bit arousing. He wouldn't mind doing this with her. They could in fact take turns?

SMACK! SMACK! SMACK!

He could feel himself getting close. It would be so weird though to ejaculate right in front of the entire class, and to do so while being spanked! He slowed down.

SMACK! SMACK! SMACK!

"Alright then," Miss Harding announced. "I think that's enough. Why don't you return to your seat, Alan."

Alan, somewhat reluctantly, released his hand from his stiff, swollen, yearning dick. He opened his eyes and looked at it. He really, really wanted to continue, but then he looked out toward the class and saw all the smiling, bemused, and shocked faces, his own face again turning about as red as his swollen, shiny crown. He bent over to pull up his briefs and slacks.

"Oh, no no, Alan. You keep them there for the duration of the class. You make your way to your seat, just like Andrew and, be sure to keep your erection stiff throughout the rest of the class. We don't want any slackers here." She gave him a couple final pats on his warm, reddened bottom. 

"Yes, ma'am," Alan glumly replied, and he awkwardly made his way to his seat, his stiff, frustrated cock bouncing and wagging with his short, clumsy steps.

Mr. Peters had been watching the exercise, pleased with the skill and effectiveness Miss Harding had displayed. He turned his attention to the next girl needing a panty inspection, Dorothy Chambers. "Dorothy, why don't you step up here now, would you please?"

"Oh, that won't be necessary, Mr. Peters," she replied from her seat. "I know I wasn't wearing regulation panties and so I've already pulled them down."

She had indeed. Mr. Peters could see them tangled around her ankles. She even appeared to have raised the back of her skirt so that it was her bare bottom resting on the wooden seat. With all the attention provided to Alan only a couple of persons had noticed Dorothy slipping down her panties.

"Well, I do appreciate your forthright confession, young lady, and your evident embracement of the disciplinary action, but I am afraid that I would be remiss if I did not inspect them myself. I will need to include their precise nature in my report to the Dean of Women. So, if you would please, why don't you make your way up here."

Dorothy scowled, not so much at Mr. Peters but just at the fact that her plan had been foiled. Sitting with them around her ankles for the rest of the class was pretty darned embarrassing enough but she had so hoped that she would be able to avoid the further humiliation of the more intimate inspection by Mr. Peters and the subsequent walk of shame. Well, apparently she hadn't.

She got up from her desk and leaned over to pull them back up, providing the boy sitting behind her a rather nice peek at her behind, and her cute feminine lips, visible beneath her dark, hairy curls.

"You can pull them up when you get here, Dorothy. In fact, why don't you raise up your skirt like Mandy and Judy and proceed up to my desk."

This was now even worse than the other girls as she would have to make two walks!

Once she finally arrived at Mr. Peters' desk he instructed her to pull them back up. Like he couldn't have just had her do that before she walked up to him!

Mr. Peters noticed the girl's exasperated expression. He could have given her a spanking just for that but he opted to just explain his action. "I need to see how they fit, Dorothy, to get a full appreciation."

Dorothy leaned over, her naked tush thrusting back out toward the class, reached down, grasped hold of her panties, and pulled them up.

"Here," Mr. Peters suggested, "let me help you fit them snugly." He reached out and took hold of the waistband, pulling on it so that they wrapped tightly across the young lady's cunnie mound.

They were indeed very much in violation. Dorothy had been wearing red nylon boy short panties with white spots and white lace trim along the waistband, two strands of white lace framing her cunnie, and a little white bow at the top. They were very, very cute, and sexy. It was perhaps a shame for them to be in violation. Mr. Peters wasn't entirely sure at the moment that he in fact endorsed the college rule, but he realized that it was not his position, nor that of the students, to question the wisdom of the Board of Trustees. And, he was probably just being distracted by the feminine finery, one of the very precise reasons they were forbidden. He needed to maintain his concentration. "Yes, well, very much in violation, aren't they, Dorothy."

"Yes sir," Dorothy quietly replied, her face reddening as Mr. Peters leaned forward to take a very close look at the sweet bulge of her cunnie mound.

After a brief period of time, which though seemed much longer to Dorothy, Mr. Peters said, "Alright then, you can pull them back down and return to your seat."

Dorothy sighed with further exasperation, but did as she was told, pulling her panties back down to her ankles and making the slow, awkward, and so terribly embarrassing walk back to her seat, feeling the eyes of all the boys burning into her exposed girlish pussy, as well as the eyes of Mr. Peters probably focusing just as intently on her swaying bottom. She most definitely vowed to always wear regulation panties in the future!

Miss Harding had no further violations among the boys, much to her disappointment although she realized that she should feel rather pleased that Mr. Peters' students were so very well disciplined.

Mr. Peters though did discover one more remaining problematic student, Marilyn Chaynes. It wasn't that Marilyn was not wearing regulation panties. They were indeed plain white cotton panties. The problem was the condition they were in. They were soaking wet.

"Marilyn, goodness, what happened here?" Had the young lady wet her panties? Had she been waiting so long, so nervous and scared about having to pull up her skirt, that she in fact wet herself? He looked up at her, and did indeed see her considerable embarrassment at having him witness her shameful condition.

Marilyn was most definitely terribly embarrassed. She looked with considerable trepidation down at the surprised and concerned look in her professor's eyes. But, she really didn't want to explain to him what had happened.

The professor then noticed something. Marilyn's panties were clearly soaked, so much so that he could discern the outline of her cunnie lips through the thin, soft, wet cotton. But, he was not detecting any tell tale odor of urine. He leaned forward to get a closer inspection, and then realized that the girl's panties were not soaked with pee. They were soaked with cum! Marilyn was apparently enjoying a cream pie during class and that was most definitely against university regulations.

Mr. Peters looked up at Marilyn. She was such a pretty girl. She had large round sparkling blue eyes, a little dainty nose, rosy red cheeks, and very cute dimples when she smiled. But, she wasn't smiling right now. "Marilyn, do you have an explanation for this?"

Of course she did (see "A very spunky lady" for a complete explanation). It wouldn't be like she didn't know how it happened. But what young lady wants to tell her professor that she likes to have her boyfriend masturbate into her panties. She considered just shaking her head but that would only prolong the embarrassment. He wouldn't accept no explanation. She said very, very quietly, so only Mr. Peters could hear, "Um, my, uh, my boyfriend, um...did it."

Mr. Peters could feel his dick swelling so hard within his briefs. "Well, honey, I'm sure your mother would not approve of this."

Marilyn's eyes widened with panicked concern. "You're not going to tell her, are you?!"

Mr. Peters smiled reassuringly. "Oh, no, no, no, I don't think that will be necessary, but gracious, not only is it not becoming for a young lady to have a boy's cum in her panties you might even catch your death of cold!"

Marilyn flinched, her face grimacing. He had said all of that so loudly that most every student in the class probably heard. She could hear the gasps, whispers, and even some giggles behind her. "I'm sorry, sir. I won't do it again. I promise."

Somehow he felt that it was not an especially sincere declaration, or at least it would be confined simply to being sure that her panties were dry for his class. "Well, I'm afraid that a promise will not be enough, Marilyn. I think you best pull these panties down right now."

"Yes sir," Marilyn softly replied and reached beneath her skirt to grasp the waistband in the crook of her thumb and fingers, and pulled them down, her heart racing as she did so. It was perhaps her nightmare coming true just as she had feared, or maybe her fantasy (see "A very spunky lady" for a description of the fantasy). She wasn't at all sure what would happen next and the trepidation was very difficult to endure.

Mr. Peters told her to stop once the wet panties reached her ankles. "You can leave them there for the moment."

"Yes sir," Marilyn again replied. Would he have her make the walk of shame as Mandy, Judy, and Dorothy had previously done? It would be so, so bad with her wet panties now all exposed, her dirty secret so visibly evident to everyone in the class.

"Pull your skirt back up," Mr. Peters instructed her.

She did as she was told, opening to his eyes her very sweet, luscious cunnie, now even glistening a bit in the light of the classroom, the soft, feminine flesh moistened by her boyfriend's cum. It was a captivating sight. Marilyn shaved her cunnie, finding the absence of any hair far more appropriate and suitable for her predilection for cream pies, and Mr. Peters would have to admit that cum moistened shaved pussy was a very tasty sight. Cum might in fact be a nice beauty product to make a girl's feminine lips sparkle and twinkle so lovingly. Of course, little vials of cum probably would not sell that well, at least for this purpose, but some reasonable facsimile could do very well.

"Alright then, Marilyn, why don't you make your way around to the front of the desk."

"Shall I return to my seat, sir?"

"No, no. I'm afraid that this sort of imprudent behavior does warrant a more serious disciplinary action."

"Ooooooooh," Marilyn groaned with a notably troubled resignation in her voice.

She worked her way slowly around to the front of Mr. Peters' desk, taking little short steps so that she would not trip over her wet panties, dutifully keeping her skirt raised so that all the students in the class could observe her shame. Fortunately, no boys remained for Miss Harding as no cock could resist the delectable sight of Marilyn's bare glistening lips. Alan had been worried that his erection would go down, feeling rather awkward, perhaps even absurd, sitting in his seat with his pants down, a big boner sticking up. But, Marilyn put an end to that concern, at least for the moment.

Most of the girls felt rather embarrassed for Marilyn, although some were shocked and disgusted at the idea of having a boy cum in their panties, and then wearing it to class! A few of the girls though did feel a bit of warmth between their thighs, pondering what it would be like to have their own pussies doused with their boyfriends' thick, creamy, warm lotion.

Once Marilyn reached the front of Mr. Peters' desk she turned her back to the class, knowing that he was going to make her bend over the desk for a spanking. Well, at least her cunnie was now mostly hidden but this was still just so, so embarrassing!

"No, no, Marilyn, turn around and face your classmates. They need to see why you're getting your spanking."

It was indeed a spanking, as she had feared. She turned around, although keeping her eyes averted. It did help a bit not to have to see the boys' big grins as she kept her skirt raised for them. She was now looking forward to her spanking, simply because she would then be able to turn her back to everyone. Her bare naked cunnie felt so exposed, so shamefully displayed. She felt like some weird girl doing show and tell for the class but in a manner that was so terribly inappropriate.

"Hop up onto the desk, dear," Mr. Peters instructed. "You can sit on the front edge."

Marilyn did as he instructed, taking hold of the front edge and then hopping back up onto the desk, her feet dangling over the edge, her panties remaining tangled around her ankles. She closed her thighs together, doing her best to protect her modesty, what little remained.

The professor strode up to the young lady. It was perhaps a shame to have to discipline such a pretty girl in this manner. She looked so woeful and piteous, pleading so desperately with her eyes for him to show mercy. But, he knew he could show none. He was too principled to compromise on his student's future, even when it was so difficult. Actually, especially when it was so difficult he had to reach down inside, gather all his strength, and do what a good and responsible teacher must do. This was the defining moment for many parents. Do they let their children do what they please, or do they impart the discipline that is so necessary for real success in life despite all the cries and protests. It was at times like this that his tough academic training came to fruition. "Lie back and pull your legs up, Marilyn, so they are sticking straight up in the air."

As she did so Mr. Peters explained to the class, "This, students, is the diaper spanking position." As Marilyn raised her feet up toward the ceiling Mr. Peters took hold of her ankles with his left hand. There was no need to unduly tax or strain the young lady. It was not, after all, a gymnastic exercise and, by holding her ankles he kept the panties around her ankles, Marilyn's flag of shame. Most importantly, though, he did want there to be the full effect and benefit of the position. "I think the diaper position is really quite appropriate for a young lady with wet panties. Would you not agree?"

It was clearly a rhetorical question, and so nobody answered. The boys in any case though fully agreed. Patsy, however, had her usual question, one she invariably asked whenever his lectures were not specifically concerning math. "Will this stuff about the diaper position be on the test?"

Mr. Peters always hated that question, as the student was clearly probing for things that she, or he, could simply ignore, as if the knowledge one was supposed to learn in class was confined simply to the 63 multiple choice questions on the final exam. "Patsy, as you well know, you should always consider anything and everything I say as fair game for the test." Spanking positions had little to do with Bayesian statistics, but it was very evident that in Mr. Peters' class character development was as important as any conditional probability.

The students quickly jotted down notes, some having to look on the paper of the person sitting next to them, not having paid close attention to precisely what Mr. Peters had been saying, their attention dominated by their eyes rather than their ears. This was a particular problem for the boys, although that was in fact normative for them.

"Alan," Miss Harding reminded the young man, "be sure to keep your erection for the duration of the class." She had noticed that it was starting to fall forward a bit as he was diligently writing in his notebook. "You don't want to disappoint any of the girls who wish to consider it."

"Yes, ma'am," he quietly murmured, reaching down to give himself a few squeezes and pulls, his face again flushing red with embarrassment. He glanced to his left, catching Tracy with a big smile of amusement on her face as she watched him pull his pud. He briefly glared at her but turned his eyes back quickly to Marilyn's once again exposed cunnie lips, relying on them for further inspiration.

Miss Harding noticed this and duly commented, "Of course, with Marilyn showing us her vaginal lips all shiny with male sperm that shouldn't be too hard for you, should it, Alan."

"No, ma'am," he quietly agreed.

It was indeed true, but it was not a fact that Marilyn appreciated making so public. With her feet poking straight up in the air, and even pulled back in the direction of her head, her wet cunnie lips were indeed fully exposed, as was even her puckered red rosebud. It was a very wanton display. She let her head fall back down onto the desk to stare up at the ceiling, not wanting to see any of the grins and ogling eyes, but she most definitely could still hear the gasps, tittering, and whispering.

SMACK!

"Yipe!" Marilyn squealed at the sharp sting of the first smack. She gripped hard on the edge of the table with her hands.

SMACK! SMACK! SMACK!

"Oh, Mr. Peters, please!" Marilyn pleaded, her bottom squirming over the edge of the desk, her cunnie writhing left and right, her butt hole scrunching and clenching.

Mr. Peters though could show no mercy, not if he was to honor his disciplinary covenant to do the right thing for the young lady.

SMACK! SMACK! SMACK!

Alan's stroking took on a bit more urgency.

Tracy's eyes turned from amusement to shock as she witnessed Alan now openly jerking himself off in class. That was really disgusting but, like a witness to a car accident, she just couldn't take her eyes away. She had never seen a boy jerk off before. It was both funny and rather provocative.

SMACK! SMACK! SMACK!

"Mr. Peters! I'm sorry, really I am!"

It wasn't that easy spanking a girl in this position, as Mr. Peters had to keep her legs pulled back with his left hand, holding onto both of her ankles. Plus, this position did not expose a great deal of the young lady's bottom. He recognized now, perhaps a bit too late, that he really needed more practice with the diaper position. It was not his usual choice.